Title Record of Pain
Disclaimer Me no own, you no sue.
Warning language
Note This is my first Heroes fanfic, please be gentle as I'm not sure how viscous Heroes fans are... Also, I think I was on crack when I wrote this, so I bear no responsiblity.
Note 2 Takes place during the first season *SPOILER* when he's captured by the Company... the first time.
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The walls are white.
His clothes are white.
His fucking skin is white.
Everything is just so...! So…
These walls, they're, well, they're really, really white.
A cockroach clambers up next to his face, pausing every once in a while to get her bearings.
"Hello," greets the cockroach.
Sylar knits his eyebrows together – an action that uses up more energy than it should.
"Good morning," the cockroach says again.
Sylar tries to say something but his words are stuck in his throat and his tongue is too thick to talk around.
"Can't you say anything?" she begins to move closer.
No, Sylar wants to say, but all he can do is blink slowly.
"Why not?" she asks as her antennae tickle the pad of one of Sylar's upturned fingers.
My words are stuck, Sylar closes his eyes and tries to ignore the whiteness of this God-forsaken room.
"Drugs, huh?" the cockroach nodded sagely, turning away to continue her quest for food.
Not voluntarily, Sylar's eyes shoot wide open before immediately closing again, the rush of energy gone just as quickly as it had come.
"I'm not judging," she said as she neared the edge of Sylar's bed, "Merely making an observation."
My mistake, miss. So it was the white walls that were judging him.
Sylar closed his eyes.
"It was nice speaking with you, Sylar."
Sylar did not reply – everything was too white, blinding him. The walls, the furniture, he clothes, his skin, it was all too much right now.
So he closed his eyes, allowing the drug to wash over him, allowing himself to succumb to all his dreams of blood and gore and power and sweet, sweet revenge.
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